


crime lords don't use pick-up lines

by arcthunders



Category: BlazBlue, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mafia AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26559991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcthunders/pseuds/arcthunders
Summary: Kidnapping, being held for ransom, it’s all part and parcel of the package that is Marth’s life. Being the son of a wealthy and famous business tycoon kind of entails that, and if anything, it’s just a hindrance on Marth’s college life. But what’s with this new gang that seems to be popping up? What's with their new leader, who can get under Marth's skin so easily?
Relationships: Hazama Honoka/Marth (Fire Emblem)
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the crack otp that nobody asked for but i ship them and their personalities are so different they may as well be ocs at this point :]

Being the heir to the Altean clan isn’t easy.   
  
One would think it is, since his family has practically a monopoly on several business franchises, and Marth gets to stay in his nice big mansion with more butlers, maids, and chefs that he’ll ever need in his lifetime. To the outside world, Marth has a pretty sweet life, the only troubles he should be experiencing being his next coursework assessment or exam for his university.   
  
But nobody thinks about the kidnappings, the ransoms.  
  
It’s almost a monthly occurrence at this rate, bimonthly if Marth is extra careful and coops himself up in his mansion everyday. But he’s got a social life, dammit, and he absolutely can’t stand being at home with his folks.   
  
It’s how he ends up being held at gunpoint, shoved into a car, and driven to god knows where, and being tossed into a room and stared at by a bunch of thugs before they finally get their ransom money. Sometimes, Marth can’t help but scoff at the amounts they ask for, too. They’re aware that the Altean clan has billions of money stockpiled, right?   
  
But whatever, it’s not like Marth cares about the future of these goons anyway. The gangs in Okoto rise and fall, and they fade into obscurity, until one of them plucks up the courage to try and kidnap the Altean heir again.  
  
Sometimes, Marth thinks that it’s scary how relaxed he’s become when he turns around to see a gun pointed towards him. But then he thinks that he’s not going to be harmed anyway, as the gangs are more than aware that all hell will break loose if anything does happen to him.  
  
As much as his old man tries to limit contact with him, he is still the heir to the family, the one who can pass on that valuable Altean blood.   
  
And so he’s rescued with quick succession, the bodyguards are fired and quickly turned over, the story is covered up by his father, and the cycle continues.   
  
Today seems to be the start of yet another cycle, Marth thinks, as he’s been sitting blindfolded in what he assumes to be some dingy room yet again.   
  
He was picked up on his way back from his university, after his class that ended at 7PM. He knew it was going to be a dodgy time, as gangs loved jumping on him in the dark, but he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He thought he’d worn a suitable outfit too, a scarf to cover up his face and an oversized jacket from a modest brand. Nothing big and flashy, certainly nothing that screamed ‘kidnap me please’.   
  
But then as soon as he was out of the campus, a sleek black car had pulled up, nothing that belonged to his family, and Marth instantly knew what was going to happen.   
  
A gun poked out of the tinted windows and they barely finished uttering the usual ‘get in the car if you don’t want to die’ threat before Marth was sighing and opening up the back doors, sliding into the seat.   
  
To give them credit, this was certainly a very fancy car, one that Marth could imagine his father admiring at a car show. He didn’t have much time to examine the interiors, though, as a blindfold was quickly being placed over him as the car began to speed away.  
  
Currently, he can hear his kidnappers outside the room, seemingly caught up in some sort of argument. Whatever, not his problem, but Marth really wishes that they’d take the blindfold off. He knows it’s some criminal tactic, so that he can’t trace them back to wherever they decided to take him, but he finds it all irritating nonetheless.  
  
Whatever they seem to be arguing about comes to a conclusion, however, as Marth hears an angry slam of a nearby door, and footsteps striding towards him, halting right in front of him.   
  
“You there, rich boy,” a voice growls, and Marth recognises it as belonging to one of his kidnappers, the older sounding one. “You wouldn’t happen to know the net worth of your father, would you?”   
  
“You can just Google that, you know,” Marth drawls in reply, as he uncomfortably fidgets with his bindings. If he could, he’s show his kidnapper that he was rolling his eyes.   
  
“You think I’m stupid?” the voice scoffs. “We know your father hides his savings in those offshore accounts, he’s undoubtedly worth much more than what he lets on.”  
  
“And what makes you think I’m told of his offshore savings?” Marth raises an eyebrow, which he hopes the kidnapper can see. If he can, or even if he can’t, the answer seems to piss him off, as hears a foot tapping impatiently against the hardwood floor.   
  
“You think this is funny? Your life is in danger right now, boy,” the voice sounds tight now, as if Marth is using up the last of his patience. The thought makes Marth snicker, but the humour is lost on his kidnapper, as Marth instantly feels a cold press of something sharp against his neck, and he instantly stops laughing.  
  
“If you do so much as make one more fucking noise, I will end you,” the voice seethes, and even Marth is coming to the realisation that _yup, that’s probably a knife being held up against his throat right now_ , he can’t stop his next sentence from tumbling out of his mouth.  
  
“Oh, so you don’t want me to talk now?”  
  
He winces, wishing that he didn’t have to be such a smart-ass right now, as he feels the knife pressing even harder against him, and he swears he feels a cold stinging sensation on his neck.  
  
“You little-“   
  
Whatever threat the kidnapper was going to make is cut short, however, as Marth hears the door swinging open again, and the pressure is instantly gone from his throat, as Marth lets out an exhale that he didn’t know he was holding back.  
  
“Jin, I was informed by Hibiki that you were most disagreeable on the ransom that we would be requesting,” a new voice rings out, clear and calm. It’s another male, much more collected, his voice carrying with it an air of authority that makes Marth wonder if he’s their leader.   
  
“You know he’s worth more than what he says, we can definitely ask for a much bigger sum than what was originally planned,” his original kidnapper seethes, obviously not too happy with this interruption, but Marth hears a light _tsk_ -ing.  
  
“Of course he’s worth more than the official figures, but we’re going to be starting small,” the newcomer chides. “Remember, we’re going to be _frequent_ _customers_ of the Alteans. And have you not undone the blindfold of our new guest? Where are your manners, Jin?”   
  
Huh? What on earth was he talking about?  
  
Marth is wondering what’s going on, and his other kidnapper seems to be thinking the same, as Marth hears sputters of protest from the other as footsteps click across the floor, and Marth feels the blindfold being tugged away from him. This time, the hands seem gentle and expert, swiftly undoing the cloth and pulling it away from him in a swift motion, and soon Marth is blinking his eyes open to see a dark room, nothing like a dingy hotel room or empty warehouse.  
  
The room looks almost like an office, with a large, mahogany desk and rather impressive looking bookcase stacked next to it. There’s also the two other people who were currently inside, a blond in casual clothing who’s leaning against the door, and another who’s way too close to Marth right now.   
  
Marth’s seen his fair share of gangsters, and they all liked to dress the part of slick and intimidating mafiosos, but this guy looks way too good in his get-up. He’s got green hair that shines in this dark room, only illuminated by a faint wall light, and a dark trench coat embellished with golden buckles. What unnerves Marth is those yellow eyes of his, almost golden in hue, staring directly into Marth, and he feels like he’s being examined inside and out. The way he looks, with a face of absolute calm and that smile that Marth recognises on business professionals, makes Marth think for the first time that he really is dealing with a leader of some mafia gang.   
  
He must’ve been too quiet for too long, as he sees their leader’s lips curving up into a smile, and something about it Marth bites back a gulp.   
  
“My apologies about my subordinate, I hope you found your trip here to be at least mildly comfortable,” mafia leader says, and he sounds so damn pleasant like a hotel concierge or something, with that velvety smooth voice that makes Marth temporarily forget that he’s being kidnapped.  
  
“You guys aren’t going to throw me into some hotel or warehouse?” is the first thing that Marth manages to blurt out, as he’s afraid that anything else he says will get him laughed at, and for some reason he really doesn’t want mafia leader over here laughing at him.   
  
But then he hears a chuckle from mafia leader, as he straightens up, revealing himself to be freakin’ tall, smoothing out his coat and tossing the blindfold onto the nearby table.   
  
“No, we’re not as crude as to employ such primitive measures,” he answers, before flicking a glance back at Marth, his mouth curling up into that smile again. “We brought you right here to our headquarters, because wouldn’t you be the safest over here?”  
  
Wait.  
  
Their _headquarters_?  
  
His reply makes Marth widen his eyes, partially in surprise over how frank he’s being, and partially because he’s in their goddamn headquarters. Wouldn’t they be in like, serious trouble if Marth somehow found out where this is?  
  
The other guy - Jin, he’s assuming - also seems to share his thoughts, as he’s jerking up and glaring at his leader.   
  
“Are you crazy?!” he hisses, obviously not pleased. “Why’d you go and tell him that? What if he traces this all back to us?”   
  
“Well, what’s the point?” mafia leader shrugs. “We’ve got top notch technology on our side, and it’s not like he knew the way to ours anyway. Best put him here, wouldn’t want any rival gangs or anything snatching him from under us,” he winks mischievously at Marth, but the humour is lost on him and the subordinate.  
  
“I know that, but do you need to tell him?” Jin’s growling, but his question only elicits a laugh from the other.  
  
“Why not? We’re going to become fast friends, anyway, I think some honesty would go a long way between us for a healthy relationship,” mafia leader smirks, and Jin doesn’t seem satisfied at all with the answer, as Marth can see him groaning and pinching at his forehead with his hand.  
  
“Honestly, you are such a weirdo bastard, I don’t know how you climbed the ranks faster than me,” he mutters, though it seems more to himself.   
  
“Hmm, perhaps because my bedside manner is far better than yours, Jin,” his leader hums, still in that pleasant tone of his, before he’s turning his attention back to Marth. “Wouldn’t you agree, Marth?”  
  
It makes something in Marth shudder at being directly addressed like that, how this leader speaks him so nonchalantly, as if they were just bumping into each other for the first time. He decides to stay quiet, instead opting to look away from the two of them, not wanting to show any sort of expression.  
  
“Look at what you’ve done, Jin! I’m sure you’ve soured his mood because of your behaviour,” he hears their leader sighing.   
  
“I didn’t do anything,” is the reply, stubborn and resolute.   
  
“Go on, why don’t you help Hibiki out with the ransom notice? I’ll make sure our guest is properly tended to, you really can’t be trusted with front-facing roles, can’t you?”   
  
Marth sneaks a look back at the two of them, and he can see the blond twitching an eye, before he lets out a frustrated sigh and throws open the door, striding out the room and slamming the door shut behind him.   
  
Now, he’s just all alone in the room with this weirdo slick-looking mafia leader, and Marth has no idea whether or not that’s a good thing. Said leader, however, doesn’t seem too fussed, as he’s picking himself up and treading over to Marth, slipping behind him. Before Marth can do anything, he feels hands touching at his wrists, and he realises that he’s being untied.   
  
“I apologise for such crass measures on our part, but this is the first upscale kidnapping we’ve attempted, so the measures are a little… _Conventional_ , if I had to describe them,” mafia leader clicks his tongue, as if he’s disappointed in himself. "I thought maybe changing it up and _not_ letting you sit through this whole ordeal tied up and blindfolded might shake things up a little."   
  
“And what about me entails different treatment?” Marth speaks up for the first time in a while, making sure his voice isn’t trembling. He didn’t really ever interact with his kidnappers, really, but something about this mafia leader is definitely different. Maybe it's the way that he can somehow get on Marth's nerves so much more quickly than most people.  
  
“Well, for starters, you seem very used to this whole process,” mafia leader says from his position behind Marth, as he feels the cloth around his wrists loosening, being pulled apart. “I saw you getting into our car with no questions asked, and you didn’t even struggle when you were being tied up.”   
  
“Well, that’s because I’m more than aware I can’t do anything when I’m being held at gunpoint,” Marth replies haughtily. When the cloth is finally loose enough, he slips his hands out from them, bringing them in front to knead his arms, which have gotten sore from being held behind his back this whole time. “What makes you so sure I’m not going to do anything, now that you've freed me?”  
  
“What could you do?” mafia leader asks with a chuckle, as Marth starts to flush, realising how foolish he probably sounds. “You should know by now someone like me would be carrying weapons on my person, are you saying you’d make an attempt on my life?” He’s walking over to the desk now, taking a seat on a leather armchair matches so well with him, Marth wouldn’t be surprised if it was designed for him.  
  
“No,” Marth says hotly. “I just don’t know why you’re even untying me then, other than to taunt me.” The mafia leader holds his hands up in mock surrender at that accusation.   
  
“My intentions are only pure,” he says with a smile that betrays something else, leaning back on his chair. “You are a guest in my domain.”  
  
“I’m not your guest, I’m your damn hostage,” Marth retorts, feeling himself begin to bristle at the nonchalant way this guy seems to carry himself.   
  
“True,” mafia leader acquiesces, “but that doesn’t mean we have to treat you so lowly, like common street thugs, isn’t that right?”   
  
“So then, what makes _you_ above them all?”   
  
“Well, our organisation prides itself in being a cut above the rest, so we should behave the part.”  
  
“Riiight, so you're the head of one of those proper gangs then?” Marth crosses his arms.   
  
“Head? You think I’m the boss? I’m flattered,” mafia leader chuckles, and Marth fights the hot sensation that he feels against his cheeks. “I’m not the head boss, _per se_ , I’m merely a ringleader right now, a figurehead for the cops and public to look at to keep our real boss safe,” he explains, and Marth’s raising an eyebrow.  
  
“So you’re like, the poster leader?” he asks, and the other nods in ascertainment.   
  
“A puppet, as you may say, for the general public to hate and fear once we become bigger, if we ever are to be founded out.”  
  
“You say all of that, and yet I don’t even know your name,” Marth sniffs.  
  
“My name? Would that interest you?” he lips curl into a toothy grin. Marth wants to huff, say that he doesn’t have to share it if he doesn’t want to, but the leader’s leaning forward on his desk now, propping his head up on the backs of his hands as his yellow eyes pierce into Marth, the light reflecting off of them so well and making them shine against the darkness.

“But you may as well know, before the press get to me one day. Perhaps they'll say it like this, 'Leader of infamous mafia group gets caught', and underneath those titles will be my mug, labelled simply as ' _Hazama Honoka'_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt proofread this at all :>

“So, got kidnapped again, huh?”   
  
Marth lets out a groan. “Please, don’t ask me about it.”  
  
It’s a cloudy Monday afternoon, the first day of the week after the whole incident. The following events went as that mafia leader predicted, and the story managed to escape the constraints of the Altean family and into the news. It didn’t get to the major newspapers, as those were the first stop for his father, but instead were leaked onto the tabloids, with the scheezy articles picking up the story first, which absolutely pissed off his father.   
  
It made a suitable buzz, and attention was again on Marth, as he felt eyes on him throughout the whole day, while he was getting out of his car, while he was walking along the hallways of his university, and when he was minding his own goddamn business in class.   
  
It’s lunchtime now, his designated time with his little group of friends, and they opted to hide in a secluded cafe for today, away from the general public, to grant Marth a bit of breathing space. They are, however, nosy little shits, and Marth guesses that even they aren’t above a bit of gossip every now and then.   
  
Said friend in question, a slight male with hair as silver as snow and warm brown eyes, holds his hands up in mock surrender, echoing the motions of the mafia guy that makes Marth knit his eyebrows together in a frown.   
  
“Hey, I’m just a concerned friend, but there’s no pressure to share if you don’t want to,” he says.  
  
“Ugh, you know I’ve been getting looks this whole day, Robin,” Marth mutters, sitting up and pushing his textbook away. He’s supposed to be studying, but if Marth can be honest, he really doesn’t care about the economic policies of Okoto in the 16th century.   
  
“That is true, but we’re your friends, the ones you’re supposed to be sharing all your troubles and worries with,” Robin replies with a cheeky grin, and Marth can’t help but roll his eyes and huff at that.   
  
His other friend, a redhead who’s been bouncing excitably this entire time, nods in agreement.  
  
“He’s right, we’re gonna be there for you through all your troubling times, including this one!” he chirps, looking not at all like someone Marth would trust with emotional support, and Marth conveys exactly that sentiment by shooting his friend a withering look.   
  
“Roy, you’re not someone I’d trust with my troubles,” he answers bluntly, and his friend lets out a fake squawk of indignation, reaching over to cuff Marth lightly on the shoulder.   
  
“What!” he says, though there’s a wide grin on his face. “You totally should, you know that I’m sooo wise and all-knowing!”   
  
“Hmm, why do I doubt that?” Marth hums, though he’s smiling now too, and batting back at Roy.   
  
“You’re just dodging the subject now, don’t be so secretive, Marth!” Roy’s laughing, as Marth crosses his arms with much dramatic flair.   
  
“When did my friends become such nosy gossips?” Marth sniffs, before he’s taking a long sip of his tea for extra effect. Earl Grey, just how he likes it, with a pinch of sugar. He shoots a quick glance at the two of his friends, both absolutely not paying attention to their work now as they look expectantly at him.   
  
“What do you want to know, anyway? It’s all plastered all over the news now,” he says, and he can see the two of them just brightening up at the mention of the latest incident.   
  
“Well, we’re just curious about this hotshot new group!” Roy replies perkily, as if he’s talking about a new album artist, not a goddamn mafia gang. “The NOL gang, is that what they call themselves? Are they really as powerful and dangerous as the press makes them out to be?”  
  
“Huh, how would I know whether or not they are?” Marth drawls as he sets down his cup of tea. “They didn’t tell me much about themselves other than they were planning on making it big, and I think it’s best for you guys to know as little as possible too,” he casts a warning look towards his friends. “They’re a mafia group, you know, and they seemed to take themselves pretty seriously despite all the show they’re putting on.”  
  
He hears Robin humming in agreement, as his friend taps a finger thoughtfully against his chin.  
  
“I guess you’re right on that, the less we know, the better,” he muses, ignoring Roy letting out a disappointed comment of ’aww, no fun’. “But did they treat you alright, though? You say they’re dangerous, and even though we can’t do much, we want to be there for you if anything does happen,” he lifts his brown eyes up to look at Marth, humour dying out in his voice.   
  
Robin was the most serious out of all of them, not the mention probably the most rational. If there was anyone out there that Marth would trust with a decision, it would probably be Robin, but certainly not Roy. Marth can tell that his friend absolutely means what he says, and it makes Marth shift uncomfortably, not used to open and honest conversation.   
  
“It’s fine, seriously,” he tries to put his friend at ease, a hand going up to nervously knead at his arm. “They didn’t treat me bad at all, it’s not like they bound me up and locked me up in a room somewhere.” His comment seems to pique the interest of his friends, however, as he looks up to see them both raising their eyebrows at him. “What?”   
  
“I mean, it’s kind of weird that they didn’t do any of that, isn’t that like, not kidnapping protocol at all?” Roy points out, and Robin’s nodding in agreement.   
  
“It’s pretty odd of them to not do that, did they have that much confidence in themselves?”   
  
Marth gives them a nonchalant shrug.  
  
“Dunno, it was their leader’s idea anyway,” he explains, and this causes Roy to lean forward, his eyes all shiny.  
  
“Their leader?” he echoes, and Marth can hear the excitement in his voice. “You actually got to talk to him? Is he like, a super badass criminal?”   
  
Marth can’t help but give his friend a withering look at that, as his question causes the memories of the mafia leader to play in Marth’s head.   
  
Was he a super badass leader, as Roy described? Well, Marth had to give it to him, he certainly looked the part, with his slick black coat with their golden buckles, and his piercing eyes that seemed like he was constantly analysing Marth.   
  
But despite all his looks, Marth can only describe him how is henchman did: he was just weird. Off, even.   
  
His friends may have been expecting Marth to recount a long, villainous monologue from the guy, maybe even imagine up the mafioso showing off a wide array of dangerous and impressive weapons, letting Marth off with a threat.   
  
But in reality? All he did was just… Sit there. And have casual conversation with him.   
  
After Hazama had introduced himself, he leaned back against his chair and asked Marth about his university, his courses, his workload, and Marth is vaguely reminded of his conversations with his older sister. He listened with interest, asking questions here and there when he found the need for Marth to elaborate on his course, such as asking about the specific subjects, the time periods, and it all threw Marth off so hard.   
  
He had no idea how much time had passed between the two of them, but by the time the ransom came and his henchman came in to notify Marth that he was going to be dropped off by his university, Marth had somewhat forgotten that he was being held hostage in the first place.   
  
He remembers lifting himself off the chair, giving Hazama a hesitant look, not knowing exactly what to do now. In the past, he was blindfolded and tied throughout the entire process, and now he’s not sure if he should be escorting himself out of their headquarters or whatever. He remembers Hazama tilting his head to his side, seeming puzzled, before something clicks in him, and he’s laughing again.   
  
“Unfortunately, you will be blindfolded, so as to keep our location a secret, but rest assured, I will instruct Jin to remove it as soon as we near your destination. Isn’t that right, Jin?”   
  
He vaguely remembers a gruff noise of affirmation from the subordinate, but it’s dim and unclear, in favour of the crystalline image in Marth’s head of the smirk that Hazama gave him, the smile that sends shivers down his spine as he’s regarded by this unpredictable, dangerous man.   
  
“I’m afraid this is when we’ll have to part, Marth,” he said, yellow eyes flashing in the dark as the evening crept up along the sky. “But don’t worry, we’ll be seeing each other more often in the near future. Let’s hope that this is the start of a wonderful relationship, alright?”  
  
He was such a… A…   
  
Marth feels himself balling up his fists at the memory.  
  
 _Such a condescending prick._  
  
Who the hell says that? Marth almost wishes that he was like those street thugs, at least they barely talked to him. He can’t fathom the prospect of putting up with another meeting with this guy.   
  
“Marth? Are you okay?” he hears a voice piping up, and he lifts his eyes up to see his friends peering at him, a look of slight concern reflected in both of their eyes.  
  
Oops. Looks like he got lost in thoughts.   
  
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Robin reminds him gently, and Marth is letting out an angry huff and taking another sip of his tea, albeit with slightly less care, as he can see the tea wobbling in the cup due to his jerky movements.   
  
“No, just remembering a bad experience,” he grumbles. ignoring the looks exchanged between his friends. “But that leader guy was an absolute ass, nothing cool like what they show in the movies. If he was normal and went to university like us, he’d be one of those pricks who showed up to class fifteen minutes late with coffee all the time.”   
  
“Hmm, sounds like he left quite the impression on you,” Robin observes, his eyes narrowing at Marth’s in that analysing way that he gets when he finds something interesting, and Marth freezes ever so slightly. Crap, did he give away too much?   
  
“U-Um well, I was forced to talk to him for like hours on end, so of course I’d feel strongly about that,” he stammers, trying to keep his cool and throw his friend off whatever he was hunting for.   
  
“You guys spoke?” Robin asks. “About what?”  
  
“Nothing, really,” Marth shakes his head. “He just… Asked me a bunch of questions about university, and that was about it.”   
  
A beat of silence falls in between the group, and then Marth jumps in surprise as he hears his friends bursting out in to laughter.   
  
“You told him about our _uni life_? Marth, seriously?” Roy’s giggling, as he hides his smile under his cup of coffee.   
  
“What! What did I do wrong?!” Marth protests, throwing his hands up in frustration. He wanted to hang out with his friends and study, not talk about his traumatic kidnapping!   
  
“Well, like what you said, wouldn’t it be best if he knew as little about you as possible?” Robin gently points out, but his tact is lost when Marth can see laughter still being reflected in his eyes.   
  
“I’m already high profile because of my name, I don’t think they’d be unable to find information that they need about me,” Marth retorts. “Besides, we spoke about my subjects, I don’t think he’d find the war cabinet that the Okoto government assembled in the Second Great War particularly useful, anyway.”   
  
“The war cabinet! This guy’s a riot!” Roy’s guffawing, meanwhile Robin shakes his head with a smile.   
  
“The picture of you talking about your coursework with this criminal is kind of funny, you have to admit,” he’s saying with a light laugh, but their humour is lost on Marth, as he groans.   
  
“It doesn’t matter, that gang’s just gonna rise and fall, just like they all do in Okoto, so it’s not worth remembering him,” he says in a dismissive manner, before he’s making a show of pulling his textbook back and packing up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a class on economic policy that I should be getting to, despite how I haven’t done the reading yet.”  
  
“Not done the reading! That’s very shocking for our studious young heir,” Roy teases, as Marth chuckles.  
  
“I got kidnapped last week, give me a break.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah, we all know you just hate that class,” Robin smirks.   
  
“Can you blame me? Our lecturer is like, five thousand years old, I can hardly hear him! And don’t even get me started on the book, the text look like it was written in the mid-18th century!”   
  
And so his normal university life resumed, and the cycle was temporarily halted. Marth finds a comforting sort of peace as he packs up his bags and leaves the cafe along with his friends, the three of them griping about their workload and exchanging critiques about their individual programs. It’s so normal, and Marth wishes that the rest of his university days could be like this.


	3. Chapter 3

A month goes by since Marth’s kidnapping, and the buzz eventually dies down. Gradually, Marth feels less eyes on him whenever he arrives on campus, and he stops hearing murmurs about the dangerous new gang that’s been roaming the streets. Marth is more than happy to put the incident behind him, and it all starts to feel like just a bad dream.   
  
However, he’s rudely awakened one afternoon, when he finishes up with his noon classes, and decides to head to the local library, to pick up a book and swing by the in-building cafe for a coffee.  
  
He’s got his newly borrowed book tucked under his arm now, and he’s idly waiting at the counter, looking up at the chalkboard menu hung on the wall and wondering what he should order. He’s in the middle of debating between a cappuccino and a macchiato, when he hears his someone calling out his name.   
  
“Ah, is that Marth? Fancy meeting you here!”   
  
It doesn’t sound immediately familiar to him, and Marth turns his head, wondering who it is.  
  
Big mistake.  
  
He instantly freezes up, all thoughts of coffee thrown out of his head as he sees those recognisable green locks of hair. Please, let this be some continuation of the bad dream from so long ago…   
  
But it isn’t, and said owner of some freaking _vibrant_ green hair is currently merrily trotting over to him.   
  
“No reaction? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about me already,” Hazama says, giving him a look of mock hurt that makes Marth bristle.   
  
“What the hell are you doing here,” he mutters, trying his best to not catch the attention of the other uni students who were currently buzzing around the cafe. Hazama, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to share his concern.   
  
“Ooh, so you _do_ remember me!” he chirps in an irritatingly perky manner. “I just wanted to see my dear friend, maybe even check out the esteemed library that Okoto University has, while I’m at it! Always been meaning to visit, two birds with one stone, don’t you think?”  
  
Marth swears he can feel his eye twitching.  
He casts a brief glance towards the chalkboard menu, and then towards Hazama, but he’s deciding _fuck it,_ his coffee can wait, as he stuffs his book into his bag and slips out of the queue. He starts to shoo Hazama aside, into a more secluded corner of the cafe, away from the general public.   
  
“First of all, I am _not_ your dear friend,” he whispers harshly, afraid that his normal voice just might be a shout, “and second, _what the hell are you doing here_.”   
  
“Aw, so harsh!” Hazama does a fake pout, and it does nothing but piss Marth off even more. “I was truthful in wanting to pay you a visit, you know?”   
  
“Okay, but why,” Marth hisses, glancing around them to make sure nobody’s attention is on them. The both of them have retreated to an empty table near the bathrooms, the least popular spot in a cafe, as Marth correctly predicted.   
  
“Wellll, I was curious, of course!” Hazama waves both of hands in the air flippantly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We spoke at lengths about your university, and I thought it was worth looking at, if it was as great as you said! It was certainly worth it too, this place even serves americano!” Hazama cheerfully points towards the chalkboard menu that’s so far away from them right now, and Marth has to resist the urge to pinch his forehead.   
  
“I never said it was great, certainly not enough to warrant you casually dropping by for a visit, and everywhere serves americano,” he retorts. “And besides, doesn’t a-“ Marth ducks his head down and casts a glance in both directions, making sure absolutely nobody’s listening in, “- _mafia gangster_ such as yourself have better things to do? You didn’t even dress like a student.”   
  
To give him some credit, Hazama blends into the general public slightly better today. He doesn’t have his long black coat, and is instead wearing a neatly pressed black suit, complete with a black tie and pointed leather shoes. He looks more normal, but that doesn’t mean he looks normal in a university. If he was lucky, and Marth sincerely hopes he is, just for his own sake, then the other students would’ve guessed that he was just very rich and very prepared for an upcoming job interview. Hazama, on the other hand, seems just as carefree as usual.   
  
“Gangster! You make me laugh,” he chuckles. “Just think of me as a regular worker in a senior management position, that’s what I do!”   
  
“But you’re very clearly not,” Marth lets out a strained sigh. “Seriously, are you really here just to harass me some more? Not going to whisk me away to your criminal hideout again?”   
  
“You seem to think the worst of me,” Hazama sniffs, and Marth has to bite back a sarcastic “yeah, I wonder why.”   
  
“We have no intentions of interrupting your schedule today, rest assured,” he continues. “But hmm, I suppose there was one more thing I’m here to do today, and that’s some surveying,” he gives Marth his usual wink, as if he’s up to something. “It would be beneficial for us if we knew a place that you tended to frequent, no?”   
  
Marth raises an eyebrow.   
  
“Oh, so that’s your reason: you want to know where I’ll be at all times, then? Where are your henchmen, even?” he says, his tone accusatory, and Hazama lets out a laugh.   
  
“What can I say? The NOL gang has a meticulous reputation that it would like to keep up,” he grins. “And don’t worry about Jin, he won’t be bothering you today, as I’ve dispersed my subordinates throughout your campus. They’re currently collecting data as we speak, and besides, wouldn’t it be good for you too, to be aware of our presence here? Last time I checked, we were not the only ones you have dealt with in the past.”   
  
“True, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be any less wary of you guys, Marth grumbles, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Also, even if you’re here to do some surveying, why can’t you just leave me out of this?”  
  
Hazama blinks at him.  
  
“Hm? Didn’t I already tell you? It was because I wanted to see you, of course,” he replies with a smile, his yellow eyes looking right into Marth’s. His tone is still teasing, but damn if it didn’t hit Marth like a truck, as he feels himself stiffening, his heart rate picking up for no good reason at all.   
  
“What, to bother me?” he looks away from Hazama, trying his best to keep his voice steady. Fuck, this guy really knows how to get under his skin.   
  
“Always so harsh,” he can hear Hazama chuckling. “Would it be so hard for you to think that I find you interesting?”   
  
“Because you’re a goddamn crime lord,” Marth mutters in reply. A part of him just wishes that Hazama would shut up, but a part of him wants to grip at his collar, shake him and demand answers from him.   
  
“Does that exempt me from curiosity?” Hazama asks, oblivious to the inner turmoil that’s currently happening in Marth.   
  
“No, but I’m sure you come across many more interesting characters in your line of work,” he bites back.  
  
“Hmm, you would think so,” he hears Hazama humming, and then he feels a touch on his chin, as he instinctively flinches, but is turned to face forward to see Hazama, his usual smile gone. He feels his heart skittering in his chest at their proximity, at the finger that Hazama has under his chin, at how those yellow eyes are gazing into him, reflecting something that Marth can’t quite place.   
  
Despite the heat growing against his cheeks, he stares back, something in him determined to match Hazama pace for pace.   
  
“The son to the most powerful family in Okoto, and yet here you are, trying your best to blend in with everyone else and live a normal life,” Hazama says softly, no more teasing, no more taunting in his voice. “You did not resist at all when we pulled you away, and yet you talked back as soon as you could, despite being faced with people dangerous as us. How could I not help but become so intrigued in this heir, who has lived such a different life from me?”  
  
Any words of retaliation die in Marth’s throat, as he stares up at Hazama. He idly wonders if this is the first time Hazama’s ever been sincere, as Marth puts absolutely not stock into this crime lord. Even if he was wrong, this would certainly be one of the few times someone else has observed this, he’s sure, but still.… Why? Why treat him like this? Why make it a point just to see him?   
  
He swings his head away from Hazama’s direction, away from those fingers that were grazing over his skin so lightly.   
  
“Don’t touch me,” he mumbles, not able to muster up enough anger to back up those words. He hears a huff of laughter.  
  
“Still as cold as always, even after I’ve opened up my heart to you,” Hazama says, a smile evident in his voice. When he dares to steal a glance towards Hazama, he can see the other bringing a wrist up to check his watch.   
  
“My, time flies when you’re having fun,” he observes, before he’s looking back at Marth. “I supposed I’ve taken up enough of your time, haven’t I? I have other business to tend to now, so you won’t have to worry about me any more for today.”  
  
Tend to other business?   
  
Marth narrows his eyes. If he didn’t know any better, that sounds like mafia talk for offing someone.   
  
“Where are you going?” he can’t help but ask.   
  
“Oh? Curious, are you? Or perhaps, are you worried about me?” Hazama smirks, and he’s back to his old teasing self, as Marth tightens his lip. “Don’t worry, you should know I’m quite capable of protecting myself.”  
  
“I’m not worried about _that_ ,” he retorts. “I just want to know what you get up to in your gang, that’s all.”   
  
“Hmm, in that case, I’m afraid I cannot divulge that information,” Hazama shakes his head with his customer service smile. “It’s better for you, no? To not know what we do. We are a criminal group, after all.”   
  
“I think that’s the first time I’ve even heard you admit it,” Marth rolls his eyes.   
  
“That may be true, but we both know it anyway,” Hazama chuckles. “I do need to go now, the business is quite urgent.” He starts straightening out his clothes, smoothening out the folds and giving his collar a quick tug, before he begins walking away.   
  
“I’ll see you soon, my prince,” he says, almost a whisper, as he passes by Marth.   
  
By the time Marth turns around, he can’t say anything without shouting over to Hazama, as the other is quickly blending into the crowd at the library exit, before he fades out of view. He leaves Marth standing alone in the cafe, at a loss for words, trying to process everything that happened.  
  
Marth takes a few seconds to compose himself, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and trying to relax himself and hope that he doesn’t look at all ruffled. He utters a sigh to himself before he returns to the library line, wondering if he has enough time to get his coffee before the next lesson.


End file.
